CHAPTER Thirty
“What’s up your butt?” London asks, looking concerned.
“What’s with you and butts?” I ask dryly, throwing some of the empty beer bottles in the recycling bin.
“Don’t change the subject,” she says.
“Fine,” I huff. “Grayson and I had a fight. And then I threw up. And my period is late.”
Her blue eyes widen almost hysterically. “Information overload. Let’s go with the biggest shocker—pregnant?”
“I don’t know for sure,” I sigh, plopping down on one of the stools. The place is dead.
“I’m going to be an aunty? I’m too young to be an aunty!” she says dramatically.
“How did I know you were going to make this about you?” I ask her, rolling my eyes.
She ignores my comment. “Did you tell Grayson?”
“No, there’s no point saying anything until I know,” I say, laying my forehead against the cool bar counter.
“The fact that you’re stressing about it… He should be right there with you, sis. What did you guys fight over?” she asks, blowing a bubble with her chewing gum.
“His ex-girlfriend showed up at the house. I got jealous and upset,” I say. “You can imagine the rest.” Aiden walks out and sees me lying face down on his bar, feeling sorry for myself.
“What’s wrong, Paris?” he asks, immediately coming over to me. “What did you do now, London?” he asks, his tone laced with humour.
“Me! I did nothing. Trust me, I don’t have the equipment for it,” she says. I lift my head up and look at him.
“I don’t think you want to know, trust me.”
“Try me,” he says, taking the seat next to me.
“Fought with Gray. Threw up. Didn’t get my period this month,” I say, summing it all up once more.
He’s silent for a moment. “We’ll get through it, whatever it is.”
I put my hand on my stomach. “A stripper getting pregnant at my age—I’m a walking stereotype!”
“You don’t know for sure,” London pipes in. “Plus girls get pregnant much younger than that nowadays. Trust me”
I shoot her a look. “Not helping, London.”
“We’ll get a test on the way home. How about that?” she says.
“Yeah, okay. Thanks,” I say, forcing a smile.
“What’s family for, right? To be with you when you do stupid shit!” Her comment should make me angry, instead I start laughing. It’s one of those moments. The ones where you can either laugh or cry.
I choose to laugh.
*****
“How do you pee on this without getting pee on your hand?” London asks, staring at the pregnancy test. We stopped at her house to do it, and I feel more relaxed than I would be at home. Probably because Grayson would be banging on the door and asking what’s wrong.
“Do you want to try one and see?” I ask her, biting my lip at the confused look on her face.
“Hurry up and do it. I’m dying here.”
“Get out. I’m not peeing in front of you,” I say, pushing her out of the door.
“Fine,” she pouts. I close the door and do my business. I walk out holding the stick, put it on the table and wash my hand. We stare at each other silently for a few moments, each of us looking down at the test but not studying it.
“Time yet?” she asks. I nod. We both lean our heads down at the same time, staring at the two pink lines on the test. Shit.
“F*ck your life,” I hear London mutter under her breath.
“Thanks for the support,” I snap, glaring at her. My phone starts ringing. Grayson.
“Good song choice,” London muses at my Katy Perry ringtone.
“Pay attention!” I growl. Instead, she starts singing the damn song. The phone rings out so I quickly send Grayson a message so he doesn’t worry.
With London, be home in ten mins. XxX
“What do I do?” I ask. “I’m going to do another test, see if it says the same thing.” I hear London mutter something about denial, but ignore her. I then realise I don’t need to pee anymore so I’ll have to wait. “Can you drop me home now?” I ask.
“Yeah, no problem,” she says, grabbing her keys. We open the front door to leave, when I see Grayson himself standing out the front leaning against the wall.
“Guess you won’t need that ride after all,” she says, kissing me on the cheek, waving to Grayson before walking inside and closing the door.
“You okay?” he asks, pushing off the wall.
“Yeah, I’m fine. What are you doing here?” I ask as we walk to the car.
“What am I doing here? I was worried about you. Have been all day. I thought you were running…”
“Just because of this morning?” I ask, surprised. I’m not going to get chased off by some random ex, even though it pissed me off. And hurt. A lot.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him. He opens the door for me to get in. I think about what to say to him the whole way home. He’s never even mentioned whether he likes children or not, so I have no idea what to expect from his reaction.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, Paris?” he finally asks when we get home.
I bite my bottom lip. “We need to talk about something.”
He takes my hand and pulls me to our bedroom. His fingers tighten on mine before they let go, and he watches me with concern in his eyes. “I’m freaking out here, babe,” he says when I stay silent. He’s not the only one.
“There might be a slight possibility…” Okay, more than slight. “I’m pregnant,” I blurt out. Grayson stares at me for a few seconds, as if he didn’t understand what I said. He blinks. I wave my hands in front of his face. “Gray,” I say slowly.
“You’re pregnant?” he finally says, looking down at my flat stomach.
“Yeah, I mean, I think so. I did one test and it was positive, but they could be wrong I guess. I’ll have to go to the doctor’s tomorrow and see for sure,” I ramble on nervously.
“You’re on the pill though?” he says, making it sound like a question.
“Yes, I am, and I’ve been taking them as I always do,” I tell him. I wouldn’t do that to him. Besides, it’s not like I wanted to be a mother this young. I think back to our Sydney trip. The second night I got so drunk that I threw up—a lot. Maybe it was that? F*ck, I don’t even know. Grayson, who still seems to be in shock, circles his arms around me and buries his face in my neck. I rub his back, offering comfort—he seems to need it right now.
“Make an appointment for tomorrow, and I’ll go with you,” he says, kissing me on top of my head.
“Why are you not freaking out?” I ask him, pulling back to look into his face.
He swallows audibly, this throat working. “What is that going to do to help the situation?” he asks, touching my chin with his fingers. “No matter what, we’re in this together. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Now come to bed,” he says. “I want to make love to my baby mama.”
I slap his stomach, which just turns me on because my hand touches his ripped abs. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”
We have a shower together then make slow, gentle love on our bed.
“Paris?” Grayson whispers.
“Yeah?” I reply.
“If we have a little girl, I hope she looks just like you,” he says in such a soft tone, I start to feel emotional.
“We don’t know anything for sure yet,” I reply.
“Denial doesn’t look good on you, babe.”
“Go to bed,” I huff, snuggling closer into him. After Grayson falls asleep, I stay up until late thinking. I couldn’t be pregnant.
Could I?